


Accidents

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's goes on vacation with Blair and he'll never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> This was the three page story that I wrote for the Senticon fic contest. Knowing that there would be some fantastic writers present -- I was almost too terrified to submit it. Imagine my surprise when it won! :-) Many, many thanks go to Rosa for her beta and constant encouragement. Another round of thanks to Tam and PeeJ for making Senticon such a fantastic experience. This story is dedicated to my beloved Noon -- who is directly responsible for me ever having the nerve to finish and post a story in the first place.

## Accidents

by Virg Vaughn

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Stage/2326/virgfort.html>

Author's disclaimer: Sadly, the boys belong entirely to Petfly, UPN and Paramount, only the twisted imagination is mine. 

* * *

Trouble and Sandburg -- there ought to be a special reference in Webster's just to match those two words. Better yet, there should be a picture of Sandburg next to the word trouble and a warning printed in large red letters. Said reference should be required reading for all Sentinels. 

I, of course, never heeded this warning even though I'm fairly bright and reasonably well educated. It's a pity that at this age I'm discovering that a) I don't have enough common sense to save my life when a certain long-haired, oozing with charm grad student crooks his little finger at me and b) even knowing about this apparent lack in my character, I'm willing to do whatever the little bastard asks of me, regardless of the consequences. 

Years of self-discipline learned in military schools, the army, and on the police force all shot to hell by a pair of blue eyes with indecently long eyelashes looking at me with that damn hangdog expression. You know the one I'm talking about.... Back in the '70s there was this huge fad for pictures of those kids with the enormous sad eyes -- the ones where their eyes took up half their faces. The fad quickly expanded (much like all stupid fads) into pictures of dogs, cats and I'm pretty sure even geckos with those same freakin' huge, sad eyes. The really annoying thing about the pictures was that as mass-produced and tacky as they were, there was just something about those damn kids and their big eyes. 

Yep, trouble and big eyes -- it's a deadly combination. And it explains why I'm lying face down spending my precious time off trying to recover enough for a six-hour plane ride back home. Six hours in hell sitting on a part of my anatomy that has seen more abuse in the past few days than the entire first thirty-eight years of my life. 

Blair came home that Friday night looking like a half-drowned pup. He had spent the evening at the campus library researching some vague reference to tribal sentinels in another one of those ancient tomes that he loves so much. He had left that morning with the fevered glow of research lighting him up like a roman candle. Don't get me wrong, I love that he's got an IQ that would make Einstein faint with envy. It's just that I really prefer it when he gets that lit up over me. 

Wet hair, wet clothes ... he just stood there inside the door dripping onto the hardwood floor like a stray. Sandburg hates being cold and wet. Hell, if it weren't for me he'd have been thousands of miles away from the rain and the cold, running around half-naked with a bunch of tribesmen in Borneo. That's why I had been planning our surprise vacation for months. 

I couldn't offer him Borneo -- there is no way in hell he's going to leave me for a year unless it's over my dead body -- of course after the past few days that's looking like more and more of a possibility. It's not like he meant for any of the 'accidents' to happen. He never does. 

After he was warm and I had fed him and after we were tucked up all nice and cozy in front of the fire, I dropped my bombshell -- ten fun filled days in Hawaii. I was more than willing to accept his rather endearing gratitude with ... enthusiasm. 

That's when I strained my lower back. It wasn't too bad, really -- he just forgets sometimes that my enhanced senses don't extend to enhanced flexibility. The position he'd prodded and pushed me into was something I hadn't tried since playing Twister in the eighth grade. Come to think of it, it had hurt like hell back then too, but I wasn't quite as distracted at the time. 

By the time we were winging our way to the islands, my back was feeling better. At least I was able to fantasize about making love on the beach without immediately reaching for muscle relaxants. The six-hour plane ride went by in a flash. Sandburg charmed the crew, charmed the passengers and charmed me with wildly improbable stories about his past exploits on various expeditions. It really wasn't his fault that the stewardess decided to pour my coffee at the precise moment he launched into frenzied arm movements demonstrating a Fijian war dance. Thankfully the coffee wasn't all that hot. The scald wasn't even all that bad -- just painful. 

We must have looked like a couple of idiots grinning at each other in the car rental line when we finally arrived. It was such a relief to be there and know that we had ten days without cold all-night stakeouts or stupid department or university politics to deal with. Here I wasn't a cop -- there were no images to maintain. We could just be two guys who happened to love each other. The condo I'd rented was great, small and simple, but mercifully immaculate and right on the beach. 

We hit the beach as soon as we'd dug out our swimming gear. Sandburg was wearing a pair of those gawd awful trunks in screaming neon colors, that reached down to his knees. I was wearing my trusty Speedo \-- he had the nerve to make some vague remark about the social implications of my 'display', but the gleam in his eyes told me that wasn't what he was thinking. 

It was great playing in the surf and the cool salt water helped to ease the sting of the scald. By then I wasn't even limping anymore. The beach wasn't very crowded -- there were only a few other couples hanging around. We had a great time. Sandburg is like a seal in the water, all slick fur and playfulness. He dunked me and I dunked him until we'd both swallowed a couple of gallons of the blue Pacific. 

It happened on the way back to the condo. Sandburg was wearing a pair of those rubber and net 'swim shoes' in another appalling neon color that clashed horribly with his trunks. He'd popped me one with his damp towel and raced away across the parking lot. With revenge on my mind I took off after him ... only to stop short when I realized that the soles of my feet were sizzling on the hot blacktop like a couple of fried eggs. With a completely undignified yelp, I jumped off the ground onto the hood of the rental car. The _black_ rental car. 

Yes, it hurt. Yes, I yelled again. Yes, there were witnesses.... 

Back in the condo Sandburg was sweetly considerate. He helped me out of the Speedo which had melted into my backside. My ass was bright pink and the back of my thighs looked like they'd been covered with red barn paint. A cold shower helped, but I wasn't up to wearing anything or leaving the room for the rest of the day. So much for our first night in paradise and any ideas about lust in the tropics. 

The next morning Sandburg decided we should go out for a drive and explore a little. It sounded fine to me. The rental car had air conditioning and by that time I could actually sit down again without zoning out on the pain. It was a fabulous day -- only a few fat clouds in bright blue sky. The island was incredible, lush and tropical in the lowlands and the high plateaus covered with acres and acres of pineapple fields and pasture land. We drove around until we found a secluded spot to stop for a picnic lunch. I was more than ready to get our vacation back on track. 

Sandburg only wanted to take a picture of us together. He'd set up the tripod and was focusing the camera before he set the timer. I'm sure that he really didn't mean to do it on purpose. All he wanted me to do was back up a step and then another.... 

When I think of cactus the first thing that comes to mind is the desert, or maybe even Eastern Washington in the high plains. I never, ever thought of them in Hawaii. 

Luckily there was an emergency tool kit in the rental with a pair of pliers. It made getting the spines out a much easier task. Not any less painful, but certainly a whole lot easier. There really weren't that many of them. Maybe a dozen or so all together. I had to ride back to the condo laying across the back seat though. Sandburg was great, all the way back he talked to me using that 'guide voice' of his and I was able to dial down enough keep from moaning ... much. 

Dinner was a quiet affair; I wasn't very hungry and Blair was too busy feeling guilty to talk much. I hate sleeping on my stomach so I spent most of the rest of the night making sure that I didn't sleep deeply enough to accidentally roll onto my back. 

The next day Sandburg was pretty much crawling the walls. I was still laying around trying to figure out how to dial down enough to get some pants on. He decided to go check out some of the local tourist traps while I concentrated on recovering. Not a big deal really, since I don't like shopping anyhow. 

Sandburg was back in time for lunch with the weirdest assortment of junk you can imagine. His idea of souvenirs isn't what you'd call typical. He'd also stopped in at a Chinese apothecary and picked up a bottle of ointment that he swore up and down would soothe away the pain from the burn and the needle holes in my butt. I sent up a little prayer that this cure wouldn't be as bad as the original complaint and offered up my bare backside for a little TLC. 

The stuff actually smelled pretty good. I quickly identified aloe, cloves and mint, which went a long way toward easing any doubts I had about letting myself be doctored with an 'ancient Chinese secret'. It felt wonderfully cool and soothing on my scorched, pin-cushioned skin. In no time at all, I was feeling no pain and encouraging those talented fingers to explore a bit further. 

Sandburg was as eager as always, kneeling between my spread thighs with his fingers exploring the one area that had escaped injury. Damn! It felt good; the deeper massage had me moaning and squirming. Our vacation was finally working out like it was supposed to and I basked in the knowledge that I was about to get nailed. Oh yeah, I need to have the little guy's 'little guy' buried so deeply inside me I could feel it in my throat. 

Just as Sandburg was lined up and ready for action, I smelled something else. It wasn't very strong -- just a trace hiding there beneath the mint. Hibiscus. It's a lovely blossom that also happens to be Hawaii's state flower. I guess it has healing properties -- for some people. I just happen to be one of the unfortunate few who are allergic to it. 

The doctor says that the swelling and the rash should be gone in a week. It doesn't even hurt as much as it did right at first. The itching is hell though, especially in the places where I can't scratch. 

It's really not all that bad lying here. I've got the TV and a cooler full of beer. The air conditioning along with the ocean provide a nice sort of peaceful white noise. Sandburg's out on the beach somewhere. I've been trying to encourage him to enjoy himself. As _far_ away from me as possible. 

Next year's vacation has been on my mind a lot. I've got lots of time to plan. I really think there's something to be said for separate vacations.... 

End 


End file.
